


Known Unknowns

by Riona



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Pitioss Ruins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riona/pseuds/Riona
Summary: Noct almost died in the Pitioss ruins. Or maybe he actually did die. Prompto can't be sure, and it's freaking him out.





	Known Unknowns

**Author's Note:**

> This is an odd little fic. I came across a snippet about the Pitioss ruins I'd written a while back, and I went 'hey, maybe I could expand this,' and somehow it expanded into this puzzling thing. I was _very_ unsettled by the way Noct could fall down pits and reappear at the start in the ruins.

“What _is_ this place?” Prompto half-whispers, looking around. Although he knows the answer already, kind of. It’s weird. That’s the answer. This place is weird.

“Don’t look easy to get around,” Gladio mutters.

“Oh, really?” Prompto asks. “What gave it away? Was it the spiky block things trying to fall on our heads as we came in here, by any chance?”

But Gladio has a point. Getting around this place looks like it’s going to require a lot of skilled, precise jumping, with a definitely-going-to-kill-you where-the-hell-is-the-floor fall awaiting anyone who screws up. Prompto is feeling enthusiastic about exactly none of this.

“Maybe Noct should be the one to look around,” Prompto suggests. “He’s the jumpingest of us.”

“The jumpingest,” Noct echoes, flatly.

“It looks a long way to fall,” Ignis says, crouching at the edge of the staircase they’re on. “I wouldn’t advise the risk.”

“Yeah, I was kidding,” Prompto says. “I pretty much think we should all just get out of here right now.”

“Keen to face the spikes again?” Ignis asks, with a small smile.

Prompto winces. “Well, we’re gonna have to sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.”

“I don’t disagree,” Ignis says. “Noct?”

Noct shifts on his feet. “Maybe there’s something here. We picked up some pretty useful stuff just on the way in.”

“Meaning we don’t have to think of this as a wasted trip,” Ignis points out.

“Nearly died getting the Regalia here,” Gladio says. “Seems like we should be coming back with more than a few bits of jewellery.”

Ignis sighs. “Have any of you ever heard of the sunk cost fallacy?”

“I’ve heard of the sunk Noct fallacy,” Prompto says. “I’m pretty sure it’s what happens when a prince tries to jump over a load of bottomless pits.”

Gladio snorts. “They won’t be bottomless. You just can’t see the bottom.”

“Awesome. That makes me feel _so_ much better about this whole thing. Can we just go, Noct, please?”

Noct pauses, drumming his fingers on his arm.

“I’m gonna take a look,” he says.

“Highness,” Ignis says, quietly.

“Don’t follow me. I don’t want you to fall.”

Gladio folds his arms. “And how do you expect us to protect you if we’re not there?”

“I’m not seeing any monsters around,” Noct says. “You think you can protect me from bottomless pits?”

“Prompto and I are trying our best,” Ignis says, “but if you will _insist_ on making poor decisions.”

“I won’t be long,” Noct says. “I’ll come back if it gets too dangerous. I just don’t want to leave without looking around at all.”

-

Their vantage point gives them a pretty good view of Noct, most of the time. He disappears into tunnels occasionally, and that’s terrifying – what if he just never comes out? – but mostly he’s out in this big open space, hopping from platform to platform above them. Prompto tries not to look down, at the void that awaits him if he misses a jump. Who _built_ this place?

Prompto has to admit that Noct is pretty good at this. Although Prompto’s the kind of guy who can fall over when he’s sitting down, so maybe he’s not the best judge of anyone else’s grace. Maybe he doesn’t need to worry so much.

And then Noct falls. He tries to make a jump to a narrow stone beam, and his foot slips, and he falls.

Gladio jerks forward like he thinks he can catch him, somehow. There are two screams of _Noct!_ and one of _Highness!_ and Noct doesn’t scream at all, just draws in one short, echoing gasp as he plummets like a stone.

There’s one frozen moment where all Prompto can hear is his own heartbeat in his ears, all he can think is _no_. It’s more a feeling than a thought, filling his entire body. No. This can’t be happening.

Noct is gone. And Ignis and Gladio, they’re his friends, but they’re only friends with him because of Noct, right? He’s lost all three of them, he’s lost _everyone_.

And Noct – suddenly appears out of the still air in front of him, lands safely on solid stone, gasping and cursing.

“Noct!” Prompto throws his arms around him, remembering too late that this isn’t really something they do. But screw it. Noct just _died_ in front of him. It can be something they do for now.

“Prompto,” Gladio says, sharply, and a moment later Prompto finds himself being dragged away from his miraculously-not-dead friend.

He struggles. “Let me go!”

Gladio hands him to Ignis like he’s a wriggly can of Ebony, never taking his eyes off Noctis. He summons his stupidly oversized sword. “How the hell are you here?”

Noct looks blankly at him. Looks around. Takes a small step and his legs nearly give way, and Ignis lets go of Prompto and moves sharply to steady him.

“Iggy, stay back,” Gladio says. “We don’t know what it is.”

“I fell,” Noct says, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, we kind of noticed,” Gladio says. “You went down that pit. And now you’re here. You going to explain that?”

“I would if I could,” Noct says. “Is this real?”

“Are _you_ real?” Gladio asks. He’s still holding his sword.

Okay. Prompto just watched his best friend plunge into an abyss, and he _cannot_ now stand here and watch the same friend get decapitated by his other friend. Whether this is the real Noct or a daemon taking his shape, Prompto is not emotionally prepared for any of this.

“Gladio,” Ignis says, “I don’t understand this either, but you wouldn’t be able to summon your weapon if the prince had died.”

Prompto instantly reaches for his gun, just in case Gladio summoned his sword while the _real_ Noct was still falling. It materialises in his hand, like always. He lets out a gasp of relief. Noct is still alive. He doesn’t know how, but—

He suddenly becomes aware that the other three are looking warily at him, waiting to see what he’s going to do with the gun in his hand.

“Just checking,” he mutters as he dismisses it, suddenly embarrassed.

There’s a moment’s silence.

Gladio dismisses his sword as well. “Okay. Don’t know how this has happened, but I guess I’ll take it.”

“Does this mean I can hug him now?” Prompto asks.

A small smile breaks onto Noct’s face at that. “You’re asking Gladio for permission? Not me?”

“Oh,” Prompto says. “Uh.” He thinks he might be blushing, but he figures it’s better to be awkward than to be on his knees at the edge of the pit, screaming for Noct. There’s a part of him that’s still trapped in that moment of seeing him fall, still can’t accept that Noct is here in front of him. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“I guess,” Noct says, putting on his ‘reluctant generosity’ act.

When Prompto actually goes in for the hug, though, Noct holds him _hard_ , like he thinks he might find himself falling again if he lets go. Prompto thinks he can feel him shaking.

-

Prompto can’t stop thinking about it. The journey back from those ruins is kind of a blur in his head. Because he was too busy freaking out to take anything in? Or because it didn’t really happen?

He’s finding it really hard to start up a normal conversation with Noct.

(“You feeling, uh, normal, buddy? Human? Not... dead?”)

(“You remember falling, right?” Prompto asks. “Do you remember, uh...” He drops his hand through the air, with a _nrrowwwww_ noise, and makes an impact sound as it reaches the bottom.

Noct stares at him.)

Prompto’s increasingly sleep-deprived as well, which isn’t helping. He’s been staying up as late as he can every night, watching Noct sleep. Which kind of sounds creepy. It isn’t. He’s just terrified that, if he falls asleep, Noct might not be there in the morning.

Okay, maybe that _is_ a little creepy.

In the mornings, when he wakes up, he can’t bring himself to look at Noct. He’ll either be there or he won’t be, and somehow both options feel terrifying. Prompto’s getting increasingly skilled at crawling out of the tent with his eyes shut.

-

Prompto sits on the edge of the haven, waiting for someone else to wake up. Summons his gun into his hand, dismisses it, again and again. Trying to see if he can _feel_ where the armiger is, somehow. Where Noct is.

“You’re the first awake again,” Ignis observes from behind him. It doesn’t _sound_ like a question, but there’s definitely a question there.

Prompto glances back at him. Hesitates.

“Is Noct in the tent?” he asks at last, when he can’t take the suspense any longer.

“I assure you,” Ignis says, “if His Highness goes missing, you will know.” He pauses, then lowers himself to sit beside Prompto. “You’ve been asking this daily.”

Prompto looks as hard as he can at the gun in his hands, so he doesn’t have to look at Ignis.

Ignis takes a moment before speaking again. “Are you unable to see Noct when you wake?”

He sounds apprehensive. Prompto knows the feeling.

“I – I mean, I think he’s _there_ ,” Prompto says. “Like, as far as I know. I’m just... not looking.”

“I see,” Ignis says. “Would you like to discuss why?”

Prompto drums his fingers on the handle of his gun for a moment, and then dismisses it, because it’s something he is definitely not supposed to fidget with.

“I don’t know if we got out of those weird ruins,” he says, looking at Ignis at last. “I think maybe we’re still there.”

“The ones where Noct fell?” Ignis asks, his eyes sharp.

“See, you remember it too, right?” Prompto asks. “But Noct is here. So what if he’s, like...” He has to lower his voice, as if that’ll somehow make the thought quieter in his head. “What if he’s not _really_ here? What if it’s, like, a daemon walking around with Noct’s face on?”

“We can still access our weapons,” Ignis says, without hesitation.

It’s not the confident quickness that would make Prompto feel better. It’s a quickness that says Ignis has been thinking about this too, just telling himself and telling himself and telling himself it’s okay.

“So Noct’s alive,” Prompto says.

“So it would seem,” Ignis says.

“Do we know he’s _here?_ ”

A moment passes.

“Do you think he survived the fall,” Ignis says, carefully, “or do you think he’s still falling? I have to say, either is highly unlikely.”

“And it’s more likely he fell through the floor and just landed in front of us?” Prompto asks.

He doesn’t want to be arguing this. He really doesn’t want to be arguing this. He just wants to accept that Noct’s here and it’s fine.

“I think the most likely explanation is some form of collective hallucination,” Ignis says. “Noct never fell at all.”

It... it sounds like it makes sense. It settles Prompto’s heart in his chest, a little. They just imagined him falling. It’s okay.

Ignis looks up at the sky for a moment.

“Or he fell,” he says, his tone darker, “and we’ve invented the story that he’s still with us.”

“No,” Prompto says. “No, you said it yourself, we can still reach the armiger, right?”

“We _believe_ we can, certainly,” Ignis says. “Or I believe I can. I can’t say for certain how real you are. It’s possible this is a solitary delusion.”

Okay. This conversation has not been as reassuring as Prompto was hoping it might be. He’s still not sure Noct is real, and now he’s got to worry about _himself_ not being real as well.

“So we need to find some answers, right?” Gladio asks, startling Prompto so badly he nearly yelps. How is it possible for Gladio to _sneak up_ on people? The guy’s the size of the Citadel.

“Finding answers sounds appealing, certainly,” Ignis says, “but how would you propose we do that?”

“I say we grab an MT, throw it down the pit,” Gladio says. “See if it comes back. Maybe we can figure out more about what’s going on with that place.”

The idea gives Prompto serious heebie-jeebies. What if it comes back? What if it _doesn’t?_

“Okay,” Prompto says, climbing to his feet. “Problem A. I don’t want to do that.”

Gladio folds his arms. “ _You_ don’t have to. You can cower in the Regalia if you’re not gonna help.”

“I don’t want _us_ to do that. I don’t want us to start... throwing MTs down bottomless pits. It’s weird.” He scratches his wrist; it’s itching like crazy. “Does it have to be an MT? Can’t it be, like, a sandwich or something?”

“Depends,” Gladio says. “Is it a good sandwich?”

“Problem two,” Prompto says.

“B,” Ignis says, quietly.

Prompto looks at him for a moment. “What?”

“Problem B,” Ignis says. He’s not quite meeting Prompto’s eyes. “You opened your list with problem A. One would expect B to follow, rather than two.”

“Okay, wow,” Prompto says. “Problem _beeeeeee_. If we want to put something else down the pit, we have to go _back_ there.”

“Well, yeah,” Gladio says.

“You remember landing there, right?” Prompto asks. “You remember we were pretty sure we were all gonna die, right? I vote for not getting the _rest_ of us killed trying to figure out if...”

If one of them is already dead. He can’t say it.

He’s alive, right? He has to be. He’s _Noct_.

“I have to agree,” Ignis says. “I share your desire for answers, Gladio, but the risk is too great.”

Prompto tries not to let his relief show through too clearly on his face; he feels weirdly guilty about it.

Problem three (or C, he guesses, if it’ll make Ignis happy), the one he can’t tell the others: Prompto’s not sure he actually wants to know the truth. Can’t this be good enough? Can’t he just accept that Noct’s here and everything’s fine?

It feels like he’s betraying Noct, thinking that. Like he doesn’t care whether the real Noct’s alive or dead, so long as he can pretend things are okay.

He cares. It’s just... if Noct is gone, it’s not like _knowing_ that is going to fix it, right?

Right now Prompto still has his best friend, somehow, impossibly, and the thought that he might be dreaming doesn’t scare him nearly as much as the thought that he might wake up.

-

“Okay,” Prompto says. “Evidence that we are not in my crazy wish-fulfilment fantasy land.”

“Do we have to talk about this?” Noct asks.

“Look, I get it,” Prompto says. “I don’t want to think about it either. But I am thinking about it one hundred percent of the time, and I’m pretty sure you are too, like, if you’re real, because I don’t think I’d forget it easily if I _fell down a hole and died_.”

“I didn’t die,” Noct mutters, not sounding as confident as Prompto wants him to.

“What I’m saying is I’m pretty sure you’ll be thinking about this even if we’re not talking about it. So can I just try to get this straight in my head? Please?”

Noct doesn’t say anything, which, if Prompto’s imaginary Noct-decoder ring is accurate, means _I’m not going to stop you, but I’m not going to say it’s fine either._

“Evidence that this is _not_ my wish-fulfilment fantasy,” Prompto says, again, because that’s all the permission he needs. “Cindy and Aranea are not fighting over me. Like, not even slightly.”

“Not where you can see, anyway,” Noct says, quietly.

“Don’t say that!” Now that he’s thinking about it, this is _horrifying_. “Oh, man, what if Aranea kills her?”

“Then she wins,” Noct says, straight-faced, “and I guess you guys get married.”

“Okay,” Prompto says, “that fantasy is _cancelled_.” He pauses. “Evidence point two. Or... wait. Or B? Did I say ‘point A’ before?”

“Not sure it matters, Prompto.”

“Evidence point B,” Prompto says. “The Regalia is not a chocobo.”

Noct looks at him for a moment. “ _That’s_ your fantasy?”

“Try to tell me that wouldn’t be awesome.”

“It’d take forever to get anywhere. There’s a reason we don’t just ride chocobos all the time.”

“No, that’s the great thing,” Prompto says. “She’d be a chocobo as fast as a car. And she’d be, like, black and silver.”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah, okay, that’d be cool,” Noctis admits.

“Point C,” Prompto says: “ _no one_ is making out with me.”

Noct raises his eyebrows. “I guess Cindy and Aranea are too busy fighting to the death.”

Prompto shakes his head. “I don’t just mean them. I mean _literally anyone_.”

“Wow,” Noct says. “You’re not usually that open about how desperate you are.”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Prompto protests. “You could say _you don’t usually sound that desperate_.”

“You always sound that desperate,” Noct says. “You just don’t _admit_ it.”

“Well, maybe I don’t care about keeping secrets from _dead people_ ,” Prompto snaps back at him.

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Oh, holy crap,” Prompto says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—”

But Noct has started to laugh, and in a weird way it feels like a weight has lifted. They can still have stupid conversations; they can still laugh together, even with this giant, terrifying question mark looming over them.

Maybe Prompto doesn’t need to worry about whether this is real or not. He just has to be Noct’s friend; he just has to love him, alive or dead. He can do that, right?


End file.
